


to try starting with a wish

by jeien



Category: IDOLiSH7 (Video Game)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - Hoshi Meguri (IDOLiSH7), Angst with a Happy Ending, Feelings Realization, Light Angst, M/M, i7flashbang19
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-17
Updated: 2019-08-17
Packaged: 2020-09-02 14:01:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20277061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeien/pseuds/jeien
Summary: “Pray that my lord will at least accept half of the heart that I offer willingly as a token of our new friendship.”Should he be allowed to think it, Capella almost believes that Vega’s breath catches at the declaration. Nonetheless, he seems appeased by the answer and smiles as gently as the living glow of their sacred star.“Half then. As long as Capella will also have half of mine.”[The five kisses Capella gives throughout his service to Vega, and the one he receives.]





	to try starting with a wish

**Author's Note:**

> for the i7 Flashbang 2019! With my amazing art partner, [ev](https://twitter.com/osombu)! i'm so happy to be working with such a talented friend and YOUR ART MAKES ME WANT TO YEET MYSELF (in the best way possible).

It’s his fifteenth cycle when Capella is summoned to the Grand Temple along with five others. They all stand in front of the temple gates, blocked by the priests who tell them, “To serve the Protector is to serve the Star Sphere itself.” 

The honor is above someone of his station as the second son to a renown clan of regional ministers. Such a distinction would be left to the clan heir—but with his scandalously generous heart that could compromise their firm grip on the community, the candidacy and the prestige that accompanied it fell upon Capella. He feels a hollow indifference to his new appointment, but nods to the priests nonetheless and follows the group inside.

They go to meet the lord they will be serving: the new Protector of the Star Sphere, a former temple disciple from a certain clan merely one year his senior. Capella has his reservations, as they all did once they processed the information, until they enter the secondary sanctuary.

His gaze falls onto a lone figure standing amidst the stillness of marble pillars, of coiling ivies winding around the columns and against the floor: with a straight back, hands loosely held together, chin tilted up like he was listening to the planet’s hidden voice. The boy turns to them and the priests introduce him as Vega.

They are assigned to give something to their lord as an offering: to one, his sword; to another, his strength; to the third, his grace; to the fourth, his hope; and to Capella, his heart. 

Vega, for his part, looks a little abashed. After the priests and other retainers began to leave the secondary sanctuary, Vega pulls him aside and says, “You don’t have to give me anything other than your companionship, Capella. A heart is a precious treasure you should give to someone important to you.”

A person who can say such words is already a person who is worthy of such a treasure, in his opinion. “Pray that my lord will at least accept half of the heart that I offer willingly as a token of our new friendship.” 

Should he be allowed to think it, Capella almost believes that Vega’s breath catches at the declaration. Nonetheless, he seems appeased by the answer and smiles as gently as the living glow of their sacred star.

“Half then. As long as Capella will also have half of mine.”

If a heart is given to someone important, then he thinks that this lord has already become such a person—and so Capella takes one of those slender hands in his own and presses his lips in obeisance against Vega’s knuckles. “This servant shall gladly receive it.”

* * *

Capella handles his role much better after a few years. Trying to convince his lord to partake in food or set his scrolls aside is a tireless endeavor only second to the laborious process of handling the planet’s wishes. It’s a task that, unfortunately, Vega puts too much of himself into.

He hears the praises from the temple priests, from the other attendants, from other disciples, from the people: that Vega is an exemplary model for how a Protector of the Star Sphere should be. Capella bites his tongue knowing how the twinkle in those eyes is slowly stuttering, how that genteel silhouette is becoming thinner, how his lord cries without a sound as he undergoes secluded meditation. Words alone cannot compensate for Vega’s suffering, even though Vega himself will accept it like a songbird taking meager scraps from the dirt.

He approaches his lord’s quarters within the main temple and knocks against the door. “Lord Vega? It’s almost time for the wish granting ceremony.”

No reply comes.

A sigh leaves Capella’s lips as he turns the knob and steps inside.

The room is sparse, save for some basic necessities. There’s a bed, a dresser, a desk—of which his lord is soundly resting on, with his head boyishly tucked within his arms. Vega looks not like the Protector of the Star Sphere, but like a young man of twenty cycles who’s meant to be spoiled and loved.

He walks up to the desk and, before his mind can catch up with his body, presses his lips against the crown of pearl hair where two tufts sprout like the buds of the warming season. Guilt immediately settles in, but he can’t help thinking about if-onlys. If only things were different. If only they were normal. If only he was worthy.

Capella loathes the thought of waking his lord, especially when he more than deserves the rest, but the other attendants will eventually come storming in themselves. He kills the past few moments from his heart, buries the memories of that kiss, and gently shakes Vega’s shoulder.

“My lord,” he calls. “My lord, the ceremony is soon.”

Vega startles awake and the boyish serenity disappears within the weary and hardened lines of the Protector.

“I’m sorry, Capella,” Vega apologizes with a short bow of his head as he moves out of the room while straightening his robes, fixing his hair. Unaware of what had just transpired while he was blissfully asleep. “Let’s not keep them waiting.”

“There’s no rush,” Capella assures him, following closely. They fall into an easy and familiar step, side by side. “We still have a bit of time. Even if we dally, I’m sure we’ll make it there before the others.”

Vega’s laugh is soft, but it bounces off the temple walls enough that it’s the only sound Capella can hear.

He wishes he could hear that sound forever.

* * *

There is silence in the Grand Temple.

He walks in tacet measures down empty hallways, weaving around the coiling ivies and marble pillars. Deep within this great structure, far from the descendants of former priests and disciples, are a set of stairs leading to the underground sanctuary. 

The lush foliage, clusters of crystals, a sea of twinkling lights mirrored by the ones glittering overhead of this particular sanctuary are mere adornments to the paragon of this holy ground. Capella makes sure nothing is out of place, even though the Grand Temple’s stillness has frozen the growth of everything within it. Further down the path lies a gazebo—the place where Vega has lain sleeping for hundreds of years.

His lord remains curled against a pile of cushions. Even after he gave himself up to spare their people from true chaos and split the Star Sphere, Vega still finds ways to cause himself discomfort. Capella reaches his hand towards him.

Like a mistake in a song, the sound of divine energy pierces through the silence.

_If only things had been different. If only they had been normal. _

Capella presses his hand flat against where the barrier will appear. The divine energy stings against his palm, but he endures long enough to close his eyes and kiss the back of his own hand, daring to imagine someone else’s skin.

Half of his heart given to one person is still half of his heart taken away.

* * *

It is hard to hold back after a millennium, but Capella manages for another few hours. They see the inheritors of the Star Sphere fragments off to their ships and watch the vessels sail away into the skies until not even a faint outline remains.

The planet now called Mistero still remains the same as the two of them have always known it before the Star Sphere’s split, but it’s a planet that holds new beginnings for Vega. He escorts his lord around the nearby area to meet the descendants of their former colleagues and brethren: the new priests, the new disciples, the new worshippers. They update Vega on general affairs: of the crops this season, the economy, the relatively current events between the other planets like the war against Eterno and the uprising in Lama. Capella insists on not overwhelming him with too much information, despite Vega’s insistence, so each point remains a brief sentence. As for other matters such as preparing celebrations for the fabled Protector’s awakening or possibly reviving the Observer, those can wait.

The twilight sky accompanies their way back to the Grand Temple. A few priests will be following them in the morning as they slowly introduce life back into the structure, but for now it stays the two of them walking in familiar steps towards Vega’s temple quarters. Once they’re behind closed doors, Capella finally can’t help himself and goes to press his thumb against Vega’s wrist. To his dismay, he can’t feel anything.

“Capella,” Vega calls, seeing his face fall. “Capella, calm down. I’m here and very much alive. My pulse is there. You’re probably just panicking.”

He sucks in a breath as his hand falls back to his side. “Forgive me. It’s just… I still…”

“Here,” his lord says, offering his wrist to him. “Like you would do before.”

It takes a few beats for Capella to understand. He holds Vega’s wrist close to his face before leaning down and gently pressing his lips to it, like he had done in a distant memory of checking for fevers. Faintly, he could trace out the rhythms of a pulse—of a life that will replace the tacet measures of the Grand Temple.

Vega stands before him and Capella’s heart feels full for the first time.

“I’m sorry to have caused you such grief,” Vega apologizes once he’s calmed. “And I’m sorry that words are the only thing I can give. I don’t think anything could ever make up for what I’ve put you through.”

Capella shakes his head and says, “Being able to see your smile has always been more than enough for me.”

* * *

It should have been enough.

After all, things have fallen back into place in the past few years since the Star Sphere returned to fragments. Peace wraps around the universe as new bonds are forged between the planets and new wishes are being realized through the might of people’s hands rather than the powers the Star Sphere granted. Mistero remains a relatively quiet place of reflection and reverence—but even though it lacks the energy and clamor of Eterno’s markets or Sirena’s festivals, it thrums with a renewed life that is so markedly different from the stillness Capella became used to.

With such a change, and with no Star Sphere to protect, it’s the natural course for Vega to change as well. Although his lord’s old habits of working through meals and fretting over the fine details of things refuse to be snuffed out, his steps are lighter and freer. He relaxes more often when the priests and disciples aren’t looking.

And, when Vega smiles, the radiance that shines through could make Capella’s heart falter. 

Times are changing. They _have_ changed already: and it isn’t enough anymore.

After a long rainy season, the first clear evening blesses their skies. The people revel at the stroke of good fortune and Capella uses this chance to pry Vega away from his research to stargaze.

“How nostalgic,” Vega says, taking Capella’s hand as he’s guided onto the temple roof. The structure is still stable thanks to the divine energy protecting it, though it remains a little damp from the weeks of bad weather. Capella easily wipes away their usual spot. “It’s been so long since I’ve been up here.”

“Me too,” Capella admits. “I never managed. It didn’t feel right, coming without you.”

There’s a glimpse of hurt in his lord’s eyes before it’s replaced by something warm, more determined. “I’m here now. We can come here as much as we like.”

“My lord, I might get greedy and ask you every night.”

And it’s then that Vega laughs, a twinkling sound that makes his cheekbones crinkle those eyes into beautiful crescent moons. “It’s a request I don’t mind indulging.”

In days past, they had memorized the patterns of the stars overhead, forming maps and stories and games that eased away the burdens of fulfilling people’s wishes. Now, it’s easier for them to talk about more mundane things: of punishing rowdy disciples by having them copy the temple’s lengthy scriptures, of anecdotes shared by the farmhands who came to pray for the season’s crops, of correspondences with their new friends who are planets away. As the conversation shifts, Capella realizes that these changes began with the Observer: who, in accordance to his duty, took in the last heir of Eterno’s throne and came to love him enough to make the selfish choice of sparing the world so that they could live. That, despite everything, Capella is the only one who remains untouched at the end of the whole ordeal.

He looks at Vega, whose eyes are busy tying together stars into constellations, and wonders _Has it always been this way? Have I always wanted more? _

_—Will it really be okay? _

In the cover of night, Capella dares to lean forward and kiss Vega’s cheek; and, just as quickly, he excuses himself, not wanting to hear any reply as his heart fills to the brim with regret. 

* * *

Capella goes to Vega’s temple quarters and sit at his bedside whenever he gets a reprieve from his duties. If he didn’t know better, he honestly would have thought time had wound back a thousand years as punishment for his selfishness. However, the other priests assure Capella that reviving the Observer probably drained much of his lord’s energy.

On the fifth evening, he is unsettled enough to stay in Vega’s room overnight. He thinks to himself that, after a thousand years, he should be impervious to this—but his heart feels freshly torn as it had when Vega first slept.

At least there is no divine energy separating them.

“I’ll empty it all out,” Capella whispers, holding Vega’s hand in the darkness. If there is a hidden voice of the planet, he does not hear it. “I’ll empty out this heart of its unnecessary feelings. I will know my place and not wish for more. Please, allow me to see his smile again.”

On the sixth day, Capella rouses with a jolt after feeling a hand caressing his hair.

“It’s just me,” says Vega—beautiful, radiant, _awake_. He doesn’t know when he had fallen asleep the night before, but he can’t bring himself to think or even do much of anything except stare at his lord. The gesture must have told Vega everything because the next words to come from his mouth are: “I’m sorry, Capella.”

_You shouldn’t apologize_, Capella wants to say. Why should he apologize for successfully bringing the Observer back to life, for fulfilling the purest wish of Eterno’s king? Why should Vega always apologize for every miracle he makes?

“From the very beginning,” Vega continues as those slender fingers weave into his own, “I think both of us gave more than just half a heart.”

“My lord—”

He doesn’t say very much before Vega kisses him, surely and soundly.

“I love you, Capella,” Vega says, pulling away enough to speak the confession against his lips. “I never want to hurt you like I have in the past. I never want you to have to offer up your feelings just to see me to safety. I never want to leave you alone ever again.”

Warmth rushes through his chest, filling it to the brim and making it overflow. Perhaps the voice of the planet hadn’t answered him the previous night because it knew of this outcome. Perhaps it had already given him permission to glean that little bit more. Perhaps it wanted him to change into something better that would suit the changed Vega. 

“May I kiss you again, Capella?”

Time winds forward. He feels like the thousand years of solitude can finally be left behind.

“Only if Lord Vega will allow me to kiss him first.”

He hears a huff of laughter: a boyish sound from a young man of twenty-five cycles that Capella has loved since he first laid eyes on him.

“Then, this lord shall gladly receive it.”

**Author's Note:**

> come scream with me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/jeienb)! give ev some love for that INCREDIBLE ART and make sure you check out everyone else's submissions as they're released! we got a super great bunch this round!!


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